Struggle

Summary: Following s2. House wakes from his coma and struggles with his recovery. The others are there for him, but once person stands above the rest no matter how much he doesn't want them to. I'll leave you to guess who.

A/N: I promised myself I'd take a break from writing, but I had to get this out because it's bugging me. You can tell me if you like the idea or not and if I should continue...for now, here's chapter 1

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1 Awakening 1

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His throat was on fire as he struggled to take a breath coughing, choking on something. Swallowing wasn't an option, he figured that now as he continued to choke on the foreign object obstructing his breathing. He willed his eyes to open, but they would not respond. In the background he heard buzzing, beeping, and muffled voices as he felt the obstruction being removed.

Breathing ragged, he continued to gasp for breath, choking once more and forcing his eyes open to see a worried female and a confused dark male. The male had suddenly flashed a bright light into his eyes and he blinked them, pain enveloping them.

"Do that again and I'll shove it up your ass." He remarked roughly...his mouth still dry from the tube.

"Well his sarcasm is still intact." Smirked the female, with a tear rolling down her cheek.

"What are our names?" Asked the male.

"Foreman..." He pointed. "Cameron." And then another man walked in with brown hair, a dusty gray suit, white shirt, and green tie, Foreman pointed to him and he replied. "Jimmy 'boy wonder' Wilson."

Wilson just rolled his eyes at the remark. "And you're still House."

Foreman then tapped House's arms and legs to check his reflexes..."Everything seems to be in order. Hungry?"

"A Ruben, dry, no pickles. If you're buying." He smirked.

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After a while Greg wondered what was taking them so long to come back with the tests. He'd been laid up in this room for over two hours. Of course he knew he couldn't leave, he'd been shot in two places...but it also irritated him that he couldn't move or work on a case. His morphine had been dialed down to test his leg...which didn't hurt at the moment, but his neck and side hurt like hell. His body shook and he broke out in a cold sweat...he knew instantly what was wrong. Greg sat and mulled over the symptoms, he was going through withdrawal. Sighing, he rolled over and clutched the sheets to his body, hoping nobody would come in and see him in this state of mind.

However, to his luck, it proved false. Just as he turned over he heard the woosh of the door and heels clacking against the tiled floor. He assumed it was Cuddy coming to torture him about something...but when he turned he was met with the concerned eyes of one Allison Cameron. At that point he figured his face was severely flushed because a look of worry instantly flashed over her face. "Are you alright?"

"Just peachy." He answered without missing a beat. "What have you got for me?"

"No results yet, the lab is backed up with E.R. patients." She stated and then looked at him. "You don't look alright."

"Gee, let's give the lady a medal." He sighed and plopped his head back on the pillows.

At that point she took in his appearance. His eyes were cloudy, his face was flushed, he was covered in sweat, shaking badly, and he also looked as if he were in pain. "Your last Vicodin was over seventy-two hours ago."

"Thanks captain obvious."

"House, stop. Excuse me for caring." She stated, a bit frustrated. "Look, we're going to start you on a low dose treatment for your addiction. Wilson said he checked on you earlier and you said that your leg pain was gone."

He just gave a once-nod and faced forward.

"Alright." She then started looking at his neck and seen the blood was seeping through. "While I'm here I might as well change your bandages."

House just shrugged and watched her walk towards one of the cabinets and pull out some materials. He'd never admit it to anyone but his feelings for her changed every day. She was always the caring one, the polite one, the one who always tried to do the right thing. It aggravated him, yet fascinated him at the same time. Ever since she had started working at PPTH, he'd tried to figure her out.

He watched her approach him again, dressings in hand. She started at his neck wound and pulled back the bloodied bandage and cleaned around the stitched area. At that point, he didn't care if she realized he was staring or not. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail, gently settled over her left shoulder. She had left her lab coat on the chair when she walked in and was dressed in black dress slacks and a pale blue dress shirt. At the moment her sleeves were rolled up while she was working on placing the medical tape over the gauze pad she had just opened. The rubber gloves hid her delicate fingers, but he had saw them earlier and her nails weren't painted, just rounded off.

His body shook again and he instantly belittled himself for letting it happen. That concerned look crossed her features once more as she started working with his gown. The wound on his side was much more serious than the one on his neck. He had some major work done there and she tried her best to disturb the area as little as possible. Blood still oozed from the stitches, but no puss or any signs of infection. After she finished she sensed his state and took off her gloves placing the items in the biohazard container located on the wall opposite the counter.

After a few moments she made some marks on his chart and went over to his morphine drip. She turned it up two notches and started to walk off. Feeling a pressure on her wrist she looked down towards it and saw his hand clasped around it. His eyes giving her a silent 'thank you'. Knowing that it'd make him uncomfortable she just nodded and he let her go out the door. Silently he mused over his current state of mind, alone once more.